


So Much To Learn

by hannahetesta



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Please Don't Hate Me, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 13:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahetesta/pseuds/hannahetesta
Summary: It started out as a favor her father owed, helping Steve Rogers adjust to the 21st century. She couldn't know the chaos that lay ahead. She couldn't know her heart was at stake.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I read an imagine years ago where the reader helps Steve adjust to the modern world and falls in love with him, and I can't for the life of me figure out what it was called. So I decided to write my own. 
> 
> This is my first Marvel fanfiction and I'm still not very confident in my ability to keep everyone in character. Positive and constructive feedback is more than welcome.

A simple favor. That’s exactly how her father put it. “I just need you to do a simple favor for me.”

Simple was taking on a closing shift at the family bookstore. Simple was paying for lunch when she knew he had bills to pay that week. Lizzie knew, deep down, that nothing with her father was ever simple.

Sometimes she regretted living so close to her parents. Her older sisters were both out of state now, with their own careers and families and problems to deal with. She was occupying a small apartment with her roommate Mahri, trying to figure out how to be a functioning adult. She had enough going on with two jobs that barely paid enough for her to get by each week.

Of course, none of that mattered when William Brewster needed something.

Despite her father’s poor timing, Lizzie was a little curious about his request. He’d been vague, telling her it was some kind of mentor program and then dropping the subject. She had pressed for details a couple of times, only to be met with the same answer. “You’ll just have to wait and see”, accompanied by a pitying smile, as if she were still a child.

“You could always say no,” Mahri suggested to her one night. They were bingeing some bombastic reality show on Mahri’s parents’ Hulu account. “You don’t have to do what he says.”

Lizzie snorted. “I kind of do, yeah. He writes one of my paychecks.”

“He wouldn’t fire you over something like this.”

Lizzie leveled her a look. “You’d be surprised.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Mahri said, nudging her shoulder. “Maybe it’s confidential and he can’t talk about it.”

“Mentoring is suddenly confidential? Who am I going to be mentoring, the director of the CIA?”

“Oh, I bet they’ll take your fingerprints and everything. They’ll definitely have to run a background check on you, to make sure you’re not a serial killer.”

Lizzie narrowed her eyes. “Who said I was a serial killer?”

“You do watch a lot of true crime stuff…”

“That would make you a serial killer, too, Mahri.”

Mahri’s eyes widened. “Maybe I am, and you just. Don’t. Know it.”

They stared at each other before bursting into laughter, upending the bowl of popcorn between them.

* * *

Two days later, she was told to come down to the lobby of the apartment building. Two men in suits were waiting for her.

“Elizabeth Brewster?” the shorter one asked.

“Yes…?”

“ID?”

She handed him her driver’s license, and after a minute of painstakingly analyzing her photo, he gave it back. “This way, please.”

An unassuming Ford Mustang was waiting outside the building. The front bender was dented slightly and the right side mirror was cracked. The tall, silent man from the lobby climbed in next to the driver; the shorter one joined her in the backseat.

“Agent Phil Coulson,” he said, holding out his hand. “I work for SHIELD.”

Lizzie blinked at him. “Is...does this have anything to do with my -”

“Your father? Yes. We were roommates in college. He owes me a favor, as I’m sure he’s told you.”

She nodded. “He told me he wanted me to handle it.”

“Bit of a lost opportunity for him, if you ask me,” Coulson said. “But that’s neither here nor there. He hasn’t said anything in detail, has he?”

“No, all he said was it had something to do with...mentoring.” She looked out the window, frowning. “Where are we, exactly?" _Should I know what SHIELD is?_

“You’re perfectly safe, Miss Brewster.”

She looked back at him, biting her tongue. _Somehow you saying that is not very reassuring,_ she thought.

When they stopped, they were outside an abandoned warehouse, the rotting wood turning green and the roof caving in on one side. Lizzie clutched at her keys; she’d had the habit of collecting keychains over the years, and while it was a heavy lanyard to carry around with her, she always joked that she could use it as a weapon if she needed to.

She desperately hoped she wouldn’t need to. 

Coulson walked on ahead while the tall, silent man kept pace with Lizzie. The inside of the warehouse was slightly dark, natural light spilling through the broken windows. There was a table near the back with two chairs on either side. One was empty; in the other was a man with an eyepatch.

_Oh, God. This is how I die._

She quickly looked around for an exit, but the only one that wasn’t sealed off was the door they’d came in. Did her father know all of this was happening? He wouldn’t have agreed if it meant putting her life in danger. 

Would he?

“Elizabeth Brewster?” The man with the eyepatch gestured for her to sit. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Coulson was already pulling out the chair for her. She sat down, keeping her keys close. She could already feel her right leg bouncing and nearly hitting the bottom of the table.

The man with the eyepatch was watching her. “I’m Nick Fury, director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

“Is that what SHIELD stands for?” 

“I’m told that your father owes Agent Coulson a favor,” Fury continued, as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “And he’s so graciously passed that duty onto you.” 

She nodded, choosing to stay quiet.

“He didn’t tell you anything about it?”

“Not really, no.” This was the part where she learned her father had gotten involved in some kind of drug cartel, or the mafia, or some kind of black market dealings. Why else would these people ask her to meet them out in the middle of nowhere?

“We’re in need of some volunteer work.” Fury glanced at Coulson. “Of a sort.”

“I choose to think of it as a civic duty to an American legend,” Coulson said. 

“Civic duty?” Lizzie blinked. _Can someone just tell me what they want me to do?_

Coulson took a breath; Lizzie noticed that he suddenly looked as if he would burst from excitement. “We’re recruiting you to assist Captain Steve Rogers in his adjustment to the modern world.”

“...I’m sorry, what?” 

“You’re probably more familiar with his superhero name,” Fury said. “Captain America.”

Of course she'd heard of Captain America. He was the man frozen in time, a hero and a national icon of freedom. Mahri, ever fascinated with World War II, dragged her to the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian, where they couldn't turn a corner without coming face-to-face with the image of his shield. 

These people wanted her to help him understand how the 21st century worked? 

Lizzie tried to speak, but her brain couldn’t form a coherent sentence. She was sure she looked like a bug-eyed, gaping fish as she looked between the two men before her. 

“As I’m sure you know, Captain Rogers was recently unfrozen from his stasis of nearly 70 years.” Coulson seemed like a different person the more he spoke. “We discussed with the Council and -”

“You demanded the Council, you mean.” Fury rolled his eye.

“They agreed that Captain Rogers may feel a bit less out of his depth if he had someone helping him navigate seven decades worth of information. Of course, I would have taken the assignment myself, but there was a conflict of interest.”

“Conflict of interest?” Lizzie managed to get out.

“He’s been harrassing Captain Rogers to sign his vintage trading cards,” Fury said.

“I’ve been _politely asking_.” Coulson sighed. “But that’s not the point.”

Lizzie bit her lip. _Clearly, it’s not._

“SHIELD wanted to assign the position to an intern, but I insisted that I handle the delicate care that needed to be taken -”

“Your father owed Agent Coulson a favor, is what he’s getting at,” Fury said. “Of course, before we introduce you to Captain Rogers, you’ll need to have a background check and answer a few questions.” Fury slid a folder toward her. “We’ll also need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement.” 

Lizzie glanced at the folder, her brow furrowed. “I haven’t said yes to anything yet.” She looked up at Fury, her temper rising. “I don’t even know who you are. Why should I trust anything either of you have to say?” She gestured to their surroundings. “Why did we have to meet here?” 

“Confidentiality,” Fury said. 

“Confidentiality? For glorified _babysitting_?"

Coulson blanched. “Captain America is a national treasure, Miss Brewster. He needs assistance, not _babysitting_.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said. She knew her father would be appalled if he were here, seeing her lash out at strangers. “This is a lot to take in.”

“Understandable,” Fury said. “We still need you to sign a non-disclosure for meeting today. We’ll give you two weeks to make a decision.”

Lizzie took the pen he offered, skimming the paper before signing. “And if I say no?”

“We find someone more suitable for this privilege,” Coulson said, folding his arms.

Lizzie pushed away from the table to stand. “I’ll think about it. That’s the best I can give you right now.” 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Brewster,” Fury said. “We’ll be in touch.” 

It was only when she was back in the car with Coulson that Lizzie realized she’d never given them any contact information. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“You actually spoke back to him?” Mahri was on the verge of laughter. “Oh my God, Lizzie, do you know how badass and stupid that is?”

Lizzie shrugged. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Couldn’t help it? Lizzie, you won’t even go up to the counter and tell them they gave you chicken tenders instead of a chicken sandwich.”

Lizzie looked toward the front counter before taking another fry. “I don’t want to cause trouble. Chicken is chicken, right?”

Mahri leaned back in her seat, shaking her head. “And yet you told the director of SHIELD -”

“Shhh!” Lizzie practically launched herself across the table. “Keep your voice down!”

“Calm down, it’s not like anyone heard me.”

Even though it had felt good to tell Mahri at the time, she was starting to regret it. “Just...don’t say it out loud, okay? Or use a code word.”

“Fine, you told the director of FRIES that hanging out with Captain Chicken Nuggets was ‘glorified babysitting’,” Mahri said with a grin. “Better?”

“I shouldn’t have even said anything. What if they find out I told you?”

“Who am I even going to tell?” Mari asked, taking a bite of her cheeseburger. “It’s not like I’m going to brag about it to my nonexistent social circle.”

“But this is confidential information, and what if I’ve compromised the entire thing?”

“Lizzie. Take a deep breath. You’re fine. No one is going to take you out. I promise.” Mahri held out a fry to her. “Just relax.”

Lizzie took the fry, but her shoulders stayed hunched. “I probably won’t even accept.”

“WHAT?”

“Shhhhh! Mahri, please!”

“Sorry, but what? Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s just way too sketchy. I’m almost positive this is some kind of pyramid scheme.”

Mahri raised her eyebrows. “A pyramid scheme? You hang out with 90-year-old men and get paid?” 

Lizzie wrinkled her nose. “It’s a volunteer position. But what are the chances that these people really want me to meet Captain America?” 

“Captain Chicken Nuggets,” Mahri reminded her.

“Right, sorry. Captain  _ Chicken Nuggets _ .”

“If you don’t want to do it, can you refer me?” 

“Why, because he’s gorgeous?”

Mahri smirked. “Do you know how amazing it would be to talk to someone who was actually alive during World War II? Sure he’s perfect, but that kind of information? Priceless.” 

That was when Lizzie’s phone buzzed. The only thing visible on the screen were the words “Unknown Number”. 

“What the hell?...” 

“Who is it?” Mahri asked.

“I don’t know.” She swiped to answer, deep down suspecting exactly what kind of call it was.

Thirty minutes later, she was in the backseat of a secondhand Chevy Malibu, on her way to SHIELD headquarters. 

* * *

Agent Maria Hill was somewhere between Agent Coulson and Nick Fury: someone not to be reckoned with, but still approachable. Lizzie took a seat in front of Hill’s desk, her leg once again bouncing in time with her heartbeat.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lizzie,” Hill said. “I’m so sorry to call you in on such short notice.”

“Is everything okay?” Lizzie asked.

Hill took a moment to answer, letting out a long exhale. “Agent Coulson is dead.” 

Whatever Lizzie had been expecting her to say, it hadn’t been that. “What happened?”

“It’s confidential.”

“Does it have anything to do with what happened in New York?” It had only been a couple weeks, but that was still all anyone could talk about. Aliens, mass destruction, Earth’s mightiest heroes coming together to save humanity. Had Coulson gotten caught up in that?

“What I can tell you,” Agent Hill said, completely sidestepping the question, “is that the Council has decided to scrap the proposal of volunteering with Captain Rogers. I thought it would only be fair to tell you this in person.”

Lizzie struggled to find something to say. “You...you don’t need me anymore?”

“I’m so sorry for wasting your time, Lizzie.” Hill nodded to the door. “The elevators to the lobby are right down the hall.” 

Lizzie didn’t move from her chair.  _ Take a deep breath. Stay calm. _ “I’m a little confused. SHIELD went to all the trouble to recruit me, and now they’re not going to follow through?” 

Hill gave her a wry smile. “Believe me, it didn’t make sense to me, either. But I tend not to argue with the Council’s decisions.”

“What about Agent Coulson?”

“What about him?”

That was an excellent question. Lizzie couldn’t say she was fond of him, but the way his face lit up was something she couldn’t forget easily. “He was so passionate about this. He said he would have done it himself, if he could. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Something changed in Hill’s eyes, and it took her a moment to compose herself. “Are you saying you’re still interested?” 

“Yes,” Lizzie said, surprising herself. “I guess that’s what I’m saying.” 

“I can’t say for certain if the Council will change its decision,” Hill spoke carefully, “but I will make an appeal on your behalf. On Agent Coulson’s behalf. If they choose to reinstate his request, I’ll let you know.” 

Lizzie nodded. “Thank you, Agent Hill.”

Hill walked her to the door, a sad smile on her face. “I should really be thanking you, Lizzie.” 

She didn’t elaborate, and Lizzie took that as her cue to leave. She walked to the elevators, pushing the call button and jumping a little at the immediate  _ ding! _ that sounded as the doors opened. She stepped in, watching the hallway disappear as the doors began to close.

That was when someone ran around the corner, stopping just short of the elevator. He wasn’t out of breath, strangely, but whoever he was, he looked disappointed. Lizzie thought nothing of it when she stuck out her hand to keep the doors from shutting completely. The shrill beeping made her wince as the doors forced themselves open again.

“Thanks,” the stranger said. He pushed the close button and the beeping ceased. “I’ve only been here a few days and that sound is already making my teeth grind.”

For a second, Lizzie stared at him before snapping her head forward. Getting a good look at him now, she wished she hadn’t stopped the doors from closing. Standing to her left and towering at least a foot above her was Steve Rogers. 

“Does it do that every time?” she asked, her voice a little high. 

His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Every single time.” 

“Do they at least supply you with earplugs?” 

He laughed a little, one side of his mouth tipping up. “I’ll have to put in a suggestion.” 

This was unreal. She was in an elevator bantering with the man she was potentially going to be working with. Did she have the jurisdiction to tell him as much? She thought back to the non-disclosure and decided to stay quiet, praying the elevator ride didn’t take too long. She always became slightly starstruck whenever she met anyone remotely famous. 

She was starting to understand why Agent Coulson was so enthusiastic about this. 

Was. Coulson _ was _ . And now he  _ wasn’t _ . What had happened to him? What did Agent Hill mean about it being confidential? Did everything with SHIELD have to be one big secret?

“You new here?” Lizzie was startled out of her thoughts by Steve Rogers. Mr. Rogers. Captain Rogers. What on earth was she supposed to address him as?

“You could say that,” she said, eyes firmly fixed on her shoes. 

“What department?”  
  
“Volunteer work.” She paused before adding, “Undecided.” The doors opened, and it was all she could do not to sprint out the door and into the lobby. 

“It was nice to meet you,” he said, and she made herself turn to look up at him. He was a person, no matter how much he was built up to be a hero. She had to remember that. “I’ll probably see you around, Agent…?”

“Brewster,” she said. “Nice to meet you, too...Captain.”


End file.
